Bamon Crossovers
by Ms. Louis Cordice Zabini
Summary: Tweaking Harry Potter (Deathly Hallows), Night World (The Chosen), Dark Visions (The Possessed), Twilight (Breaking Dawn) with TVD/Bamon.
1. The Battle of Mystic Falls

**A/N: I decided to tweak the Harry Potter series with TVD/Bamon. I hope you like this Bamon fans.**

"Hang on a moment!" said Damon sharply. "We've forgotten someone!"

"Who?" asked Bonnie.

"The human slaves, they'll all be down in the kitchen, won't they?"

"You mean we ought to get them fighting?" asked Stefan.

"No," said Damon seriously, "I mean we should tell them to get out. We don't want anymore Sheriff Forbes or Jenna's, do we? We can't order them to die for us—"

There was a clatter as the wooden stakes cascaded out of Bonnie's arms. Running at Damon, she flung them around his pale neck and kissed him full on the mouth.

Damon threw away the dagger coated in white oak ash wood and the white oak stake he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted the little witch off her feet.

"Is this the moment?" Stefan asked weakly, thanking heaven up above as he smiled at the pair and tamed the fanboy within him. Promising himself that he would go full force fanboy once this battle with the Original's ended, he cleared his throat trying to get their attention, but when nothing happened except that Damon and Bonnie gripped each other still more firmly and swayed on the spot, he raised his voice. "Oi! There's a war going on here!"

Damon and Bonnie broke apart, their arms still around each other.

"I know, little brother," smirked Damon, who looked as though he had recently been hit on the back of the head with one of Emily's dangerous love spells, "so it's now or never, isn't it?"

"Never mind that, what about the cure?" Stefan shouted. "D'you think you could just – just hold it in until we find Elena and Katherine?"

"Yeah – right – sorry – " said Damon clearly not sorry, as he and Bonnie set about gathering up the stakes, both pink in the face.

**Q: Should I do some more of these crossovers maybe with other book series?**


	2. The Chosen

**A/N: Night World No.2 by L.J. Smith**

**TVD/Bamon and Night World crossover. Two L.J. Smith worlds collide.**

Something grabbed her from behind.

This time she had no warning. And she wasn't surprised anymore. Her opinion of herself as a powerful witch had plummeted. She intended to fight, though. She went limp to loosen the grip, then reached between her own legs to grab her attacker's ankle. A jerk up would throw him off balance...

_Don't do it. I don't want to have to stun you, but I will._

Damon.

She recognized the mental voice, and the hand clamped across her mouth. And both the telepathy and the skin contact were having an effect on her.

It wasn't like before; no lightning bolts, no explosions. But she was overwhelmed with a sense of Damon. She seemed to feel his mind-and the feeling was one of drowning in dark chaos. A storm that seemed just as likely to kill Damon as anyone else.

He lifted her cleanly and backed out of the room with her, into the hall, then up a flight of stairs. Bonnie didn't fight. She tried to clear her head and wait for an opportunity.

By the time he'd pulled her into an upstairs room and shut the door, she realized that there wasn't going to be an opportunity.

He was just too strong, and he could stun her telepathically the instant she moved to get away. The tables had turned. There was nothing to do now but hope that she could face death as calmly as he had. At least, she thought, it would put a stop to her confusion.

He let go of her and she slowly turned to look at him. What she saw sent chills between her shoulder blades. His eyes were as blue as the sky she'd sensed in his mind. It was scarier than the cold hunger she'd seen in the eyes of the seven guys downstairs.

Then he smiled.

A smile that shed rainbows. Bonnie pressed her back against the wall and tried to brace herself.

"Give me the knife."

She simply looked at him. He pulled it out of her waistband and tossed it on the bed.

"I don't like being knocked out," he said. "I don't know why, but something about it really bothers me."

"Damon, just get it over with."

"And it took me a while to get myself untied because of the vervain. Every time I meet you, I seem to end up hog-tied and unconscious. It's getting monotonous."

"Damon... you're a vampire. I'm a witch. Do what you have to."

"We're also always threatening each other. Have you noticed that? Of course, everything we keep saying is true. It is kill or be killed. And you've killed a lot of my people, Little Witch."

"And you've killed a lot of mine, Damon Salvatore."

He glanced away, looking into a middle distance. His pupils were enormous. "Less than you might think, actually. I don't usually kill to feed. But, yes, I've done enough. I said before, I know what you think of me."

Bonne said nothing. She was frightened and confused and had been under strain for quite a long time. She felt that at any moment she could snap.

"We belong to two different races, races that hate each other. There's no way to get around that." He turned his blue eyes back on her, knowing that they were turning black as dark veins surfaced under his eyes and gave her a brilliant shark like smile. "Unless, of course, we change it."

"What are you talking about?" Bonnie said, more afraid of what he was saying then him turning right in front of her.

"I'm going to make you a vampire."

Something inside Bonnie seemed to give way and fall. She felt as if her legs might collapse.

He couldn't mean it, he couldn't be serious. But he was. She could tell. There was a kind of surface serenity pasted over the dark roiling clouds in his eyes.

So this was how he'd solved an unsolvable problem. He _had_ snapped.

Bonnie whispered, "You know you can't do that."

"I know I can do that. It's very simple, actually- all we have to do is exchange blood. And it's the only way." He took hold of her arms just above the elbow. "Don't you understand? As long as you're human, Night World law says you have to die if I love you."

Bonnie stood stricken.

Damon had stopped short, as if he were startled himself by what he'd said. Then he gave an odd almost dark laugh and shook his head. "If I love you," he repeated. "And that's the problem, of course. I do love you."

Bonnie leaned against the wall for support. She couldn't think anymore. She couldn't even breathe properly let alone use her powers. And somewhere deep inside her there was a trembling that wouldn't stop.

"I've loved you from that first night, Little Witch. I didn't want to admit it, but it was true." He was still gripping her tightly by the arms, leaning close to her, but his eyes were blue again and distant, lost in the past.

"I'd never met a human... Witch like you," he said softly, as if remembering. "You were strong, you weren't weak and pathetic. You weren't looking for your own destruction. But you were going to let me go. Strength and compassion. And... honor. Of course I loved you." His eyes focused again. He looked at her sharply. "I'd have been crazy not to."

Falling into darkness... Bonnie had a terrifying desire to simply collapse in his arms. Give in. He was so strangely beautiful, and the power of his personality was overwhelming.

And of course she loved him, too.

That was suddenly excruciatingly clear. Undeniable. From the beginning he had struck a chord in her that no one else had ever touched. He was so much like her- a leader, a fighter. But he had honor, too. However he might try to deny it or get around it, deep inside him there was still honor.

And like her, he knew the dark side of life, the pain, the violence. They had both seen-and done-things that normal people wouldn't understand.

She was supposed to hate him... but from the beginning she'd seen herself in him. She had felt the bond, the connection between them...

Bonnie shook her head. "No!" She had to stop thinking these things. She would not surrender to the darkness.

"You can't stop me, you know," Damon smirked. "That ought to make things easier for you. You don't even have to make a decision. It's all my fault. I'm very, very bad, and I'm going to make you a vampire."

Somehow that gave Bonnie her voice back. "How can you do that-to someone you love?" she spat.

"Because I don't want you dead! Because as long as you're human, you're going to get yourself killed!" He put his face close to hers, their foreheads almost touching. "I will not let you kill yourself," he said through his teeth.

"If you make me a vampire, I will kill myself," Bonnie said.

Her mind had cleared. However much she wanted to give in, however enticing the darkness might be, it all disappeared when she thought of how it would end. She would be a vampire. She'd be driven by bloodlust to do things that would horrify her right now. And she'd undoubtedly find excuses for doing them. She would become a monster.

Damon was looking shaken. She'd scared him, she could see it in his eyes.

"You'll feel differently once it's done," he said.

"No. Listen to me, Damon." She kept her eyes on his, looking deep, trying to let him see the truth of what she was saying. "If you make me a vampire, the moment I wake up I'll stab myself with my own knife. Do you think I'm not brave enough?"

"You're too brave; that's your problem." He was faltering. The surface serenity was breaking up. But that wasn't really helpful, Bonnie realized, because underneath it was an agony of desperate confusion.

Damon really couldn't see any other solution. Bonnie couldn't see any herself-except that she didn't really expect to survive tonight.

Damon's face hardened, and she could see him pushing away doubts. "You'll get used to it," he said harshly, his voice grating. "You'll see. Let's start now," he added.

And then he bit her.


	3. The Possessed

**A/N: Two more chapters left.**

**Dark Visions by L.J. Smith**

**TVD/Bamon and ****Dark Visions** crossover. Two L.J. Smith worlds collide again.

"Damon"

The call was involuntary, wrung out of her by panic. Bonnie's heart thumped before she realized that Elena and the others were out of range.

Damon wasn't. His head whipped around.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing?" she countered. "What have you done, Damon?"

She saw him hesitate, then saw him abandon the cottage window abruptly and come striding toward her. She walked to meet him, and he pulled her into the shelter of a carport.

"Can't I take a walk without being followed?" he said venomously.

Bonnie gave herself a moment before answering. She was trying to smooth her hair, which the wind had turned into a mane of elf-locks and fine tangles. And she needed to catch her breath.

At last she looked at him. A streetlight outside illuminated half his face, leaving the other half in shadow. Bonnie could see enough. His skin looked tight, as if it had been stretched over his bones. There were black circles under his blue eyes. And there was something about his expression... the way he stared at her, eyes narrowed, lips drawn back a little as he breathed quickly.

Damon was on the breaking point. And, no, he hadn't gotten into that cottage yet.

"Is that what you were doing?" she said. "Taking a walk?"

"Yes." His lips drew back a little farther. His eyes had turned dark and defiant - he was going to brazen this out. "I need to get away from the rest of you once in a while. There's only so much of Stefan, Elena, Barbie and her dog I can stand."

"So you just wanted some privacy." She took a step toward him. "And you decided now was the time for a little stroll."

With startling suddenness he flashed his most dazzling smile. "Exactly."

Bonnie took another step. The smile disappeared as suddenly as it had come, leaving his mouth grim. "In the middle of the night. In the freezing cold."

He looked dangerous now. Dark and dangerous as a vampire on the hunt. "That's right, little witch. Now be a good girl and go back to the van."

Bonnie moved again, close enough that she could feel his warmth - and he could feel hers. She could feel the instant tension in his body, could see his eyes darken further and veins slowly developing under his eyes. She could hear his breath become uneven.

"I've never been a good girl. Ask anybody back in Mystic Falls - they said I have an attitude problem. So you were just hanging around that cottage by accident."

He took the sudden change in subject without blinking, but when he spoke it was through clenched teeth. "What else would I be doing?"

"I thought" - Bonnie tilted her head back to look up at him - "that you might need something."

"I don't need anything from anyone!"

She'd accomplished something astonishing just then - she'd made Damon give way before her. He'd retreated, stepping back until the concrete wall behind him stopped him.

Bonnie didn't give him a chance to regroup. She knew the risk of what she was doing. Damon was on the verge of snapping - and he was capable of some serious violence. But she wouldn't let herself think about the danger; she could only think about the shining torment in Damon's eyes.

She moved to him again, this time so close that they were touching. Carefully, deliberately, she put her hands on his chest. She couldn't feel the running-stag clamor of his heart but knew it was normal.

Then she looked up at him, her face inches from his.

"I think you're lying," she whispered.

Something in Damon's haunting eyes fractured. It was like watching glass shatter into pieces.

He caught Bonnie by the shoulder. His other hand clamped in her hair, twisting her head to the side.

Black terror washed over Bonnie, but she didn't move. Her fingers tightened on the sleeves of Damon's borrowed shirt.

Then she felt his lips on the back of her neck.

The first sensation was a piercing, as if a single sharp tooth had penetrated at the upper part of her spine, just below her neck.

Vampires, Bonnie thought dazedly. She knew Damon was trying to desperately feed, but it felt as if he was ripping away her skin. She could easily see how the legends about vampires had started.

The next instant the sharp pain had gone, replaced by a tugging, as if something inside her was being plucked up by the roots. She felt her own momentary resistance - like the Earth clinging to a handful of weeds being pulled. And then a giving, a yielding. As if the weeds had come free in the pulling hand.

Her magical warm blood fountained out of the open wound in a narrow stream. Bonnie felt a flare of heat - and pleasure.

_All right. It's going to be all right,_ she thought, scarcely knowing whether she was speaking to herself or Damon. The experience itself was frightening - it felt like when Emily possessed her in the woods years ago and in rage he bit her with the intentions of killing her… Emily that night. But she refused to be afraid on other grounds.

_I trust you, Damon,_ she thought.

She could feel the blood pouring into him, and once again she felt his gratitude, his appreciation. His relief as his need was met.

_I trust you._

The blood was still flowing steadily, and Bonnie had a sense of cleansing and her magic swirling around them. Her entire body felt light and airy, as if her feet weren't touching the ground. She relaxed in Damon's arms, letting him support her.

A thought that wasn't Bonnie's, came to her – it was Damon. But it didn't sound like Damon. There was no anger, no mockery. It was the free and joyous communication of a happy child.

_Thank you Bonnie._


	4. Kol Mikaelson

**Breaking Dawn (Birth scene with a TVD/BAMON/KENNETT twist)**

**(Kol Mikaelson's POV)**

Bonnie's body, streaming with red, started to twitch, jerking around in Elena's arms like she was being electrocuted. All the while, her face was blank - unconscious. It was the wild thrashing from inside the center of her body that moved her. As she convulsed, sharp snaps and cracks kept time with the spasms.

Elena and Damon were frozen for the shortest half second, and then they broke. Elena whipped Bonnie's body into her arms, and, shouting so fast it was hard to separate the individual words, she and Damon shot up the staircase to the second floor.

I sprinted after them.

"Morphine!" Damon yelled at Elena.

" Caroline - get Stefan on the phone!" Elena screeched.

The room I followed them to looked like an emergency ward set up in the middle of a library. The lights were brilliant and white. Bonnie was on a table under the glare, skin ghostly in the spotlight. Her body flopped, a fish on the sand. Elena pinned Bonnie down, yanking and ripping her clothes out of the way, while Damon stabbed a syringe into her arm.

How many times had I imagined her naked? Now I couldn't look. I was afraid to have these memories in my head.

"What's _happening_, Damon?"

"He's suffocating!"

"The placenta must have detached!"

Somewhere in this, Bonnie came around. She responded to their words with a shriek that clawed at my eardrums.

"Get him OUT!" she screamed. "He can't BREATHE! Do it NOW!"

I saw the red spots pop out when her scream broke the blood vessels in her eyes.

'The morphine - ," Damon growled.

"NO! NOW - !" Another gush of blood choked off what she was shrieking. He held her head up, desperately trying to clear her mouth so that she could breathe again.

Caroline darted into the room and clipped a little blue earpiece under Elena 's hair. Then Caroline backed away, her black eyes wide with dark veins under them and burning, while Elena hissed frantically into the phone.

In the bright light, Bonnie 's skin seemed more purple and black than it was beige. Deep red was seeping beneath the skin over the huge, shuddering bulge of her stomach. Elena's hand came up with a scalpel.

"Let the morphine spread!" Damon shouted at her.

"There's no time," Elena hissed. "He's dying!"

Her hand came down on Bonnie's stomach, and vivid red spouted out from where she pierced the skin. It was like a bucket being turned over, a faucet twisted to full. Bonnie jerked, but didn't scream. She was still choking.

And then Elena lost her focus. I saw the expression on her face shift, saw her lips pull back from her teeth and her black eyes glint with thirst.

"No, 'Lena!" Damon roared, but his hands were trapped, trying to prop Bonnie upright so she could breathe.

I launched myself at Elena, jumping across the table without bothering to phase. As I hit her stone body, knocking her toward the door, I felt the scalpel in her hand stab deep into my left arm. My right palm smashed against her face, locking her jaw and blocking her airways.

I used my grip on Elena's face to swing her body out so that I could land a solid kick in her gut; it was like kicking concrete. She flew into the door frame, buckling one side of it. The little speaker in her ear crackled into pieces. Then Caroline was there, yanking her by the throat to get her into the hall.

And I had to give it to the doppelganger - she didn't put up an ounce of fight. She wanted us to win. She let me trash her like that, to save Bonnie. Well, to save the thing.

I ripped the blade out of my arm.

' Caroline, get her out of here!" Damon shouted. "Take her to Klaus and keep her there! Kol, I need you!"

I didn't watch Caroline finish the job. I wheeled back to the operating table, where Bonnie was turning blue, her eyes wide and staring.

"CPR?" Damon growled at me, fast and demanding.

"Yes!"

I judged his face swiftly, looking for any sign that he was going to react like Elena. There was nothing but the single-minded ferocity.

"Get her breathing! I've got to get him out before –

Another shattering crack inside her body, the loudest yet, so loud that we both froze in shock waiting for her answering shriek. Nothing. Her legs, which had been curled up in agony, now went limp, sprawling out in an unnatural way.

"Her spine," he choked in horror.

"Get it out of her!" I snarled, flinging the scalpel at him. "She won't feel anything now!"

And then I bent over her head. Her mouth looked clear, so I pressed mine to hers and blew a lungful of air into it. I felt her twitching body expand, so there was nothing blocking her throat.

Her lips tasted like blood.

I could hear her heart, thumping unevenly. Keep it going, I thought fiercely at her, blowing another gust of air into her body. _You promised. Keep your heart beating._

I heard the soft, wet sound of the scalpel across her stomach. More blood dripping to the floor.

The next sound jolted through me, unexpected, terrifying. Like metal being shredded apart. The sound brought back the fight in the woods so many months ago, the tearing sound of the werewolves being ripped apart. I glanced over to see Damon's face pressed against the bulge. Vampire teeth - a surefire way to cut through any type of skin whether it was vampire, werewolf, hybrid, hunter, human and or witch.

I shuddered as I blew more air into Bonnie. She coughed back at _me_, her eyes blinking, rolling blindly.

"You stay with me now, little witch!" I yelled at her. "Do you hear me? Stay! You're not leaving me. Keep your heart beating!"

Her eyes wheeled, looking for me, or him, but seeing nothing.

I stared into them anyway, keeping my gaze locked there.

And then her body was suddenly still under my hands, though her breathing picked up roughly and her heart continued to thud. I realized the stillness meant that it was over. The internal beating was over. It must be out of her.

It was.

Damon whispered, "Rosalynn."

So Bonnie'd been wrong. It wasn't the boy she'd imagined. No big surprise there. What _hadn't_ she been wrong about? I didn't look away from her red-spotted eyes, but I felt her hands lift weakly.

"Let me...," she croaked in a broken whisper. "Give her to me."

I guess I should have known that he would always give her what she wanted, no matter how stupid her request might be. But I didn't dream he would listen to her now. So I didn't think to stop him.

Something warm touched my arm. That right there should have caught my attention. Nothing felt warm to me.

But I couldn't look away from Bonnie's face. She blinked and then stared, finally seeing something. She moaned out a strange, weak croon.

"Rosa... lynn. So... beautiful."

And then she gasped - gasped in pain.

By the time I looked, it was too late. Damon had snatched the warm, bloody thing out of her limp arms. My eyes flickered across her skin. It was red with blood - the blood that had flowed from her mouth, the blood smeared all over the creature, and fresh blood welling out of a tiny double-crescent bite mark just over her left breast.

"No, Rosalynn," Damon murmured, like he was teaching the monster manners.

I didn't look at him or it. I watched only Bonnie as her emerald eyes rolled back into her head.

With a last dull _ga-lump_, her heart faltered and went silent.

She missed maybe half of one beat, and then my hands were on her chest, doing compressions, I counted in my head, trying to keep the rhythm steady. One. Two. Three. Four.

Breaking away for a second, I blew another lungful of air into her.

I couldn't see anymore. My eyes were wet and blurry. But I was hyperaware of the sounds in the room. The unwilling _glug-glug _of her heart under my demanding hands and the pounding of another heart - a fluttering beat that was too fast, too light. I couldn't place it.

I forced more air down the little witch's throat.

"What are you waiting for?" I choked out breathlessly, pumping her heart again. One. Two. Three. Four.

"Take the baby," Damon said urgently.

'Throw it out the window." One. Two. Three. Four.

"Give her to me," a low voice chimed from the doorway.

Damon and I snarled at the same time.

One. Two. Three. Four.

"I've got it under control," Elena promised. "Give me the baby, Damon. Til you take care of her until Bonnie ..."

I breathed for Bonnie again while the exchange took place. The fluttering _thumpa-thumpa-thumpa_ faded away with distance.

"Move your hands, Kol."

I looked up from Bonnie's white eyes, still pumping her heart for her. Damon had a syringe in his hand - all dark red, like it was made from blood but darker.

"What's that?"

His stone hand knocked mine out of the way. There was a tiny crunch as his blow broke my little finger. In the same second, he shoved the needle straight into her heart.

"It's Klaus' blood," he answered as he pushed the plunger down.

I heard the jolt in her heart, like he'd shocked her with paddles.

"Keep it moving," he ordered. His voice was ice, was dead. Fierce and unthinking. Like he was a machine.

I ignored the healing ache in my finger and started pumping her heart again. It was harder, as if her blood was congealing there - thicker and slower. While I pushed the now-viscous blood through her arteries, I watched what he was doing.

It was like he was kissing her, brushing his lips at her throat, at her wrists, into the crease on the inside of her arm. But I could hear the lush tearing of her skin as his teeth bit through, again and again, forcing in his blood into her system as many points as possible. I saw his pale tongue sweep along the bleeding gashes, but before this could make me either sick or angry, I realized what he was doing. Where his tongue washed the blood over her skin, it sealed shut. Holding Damon's blood and his brother - hybrid blood inside her body.

I blew more air into her mouth, but there was nothing there. Just the lifeless rise of her chest in response. I kept pumping her heart, counting, while he worked manically over her, trying to put her back together. All the king's horses and all the king's men...

But there was nothing there, just me, just him.

Working over a witch's corpse.

Because that's all that was left of the girl we both loved. This broken, bled-out, mangled corpse. We couldn't put Bonnie together again.

I knew it was too late. I knew she was dead. I knew it for sure because the pull was gone. I didn't feel any reason to be here beside her. She wasn't here anymore. When she brought down the veil and then closed it back up, bringing back Jeremy and accidently me back to the living. So this body here had no more draw for me. The senseless need to be near her had vanished.

Or maybe _moved_ was the better word. It seemed like I felt the pull from the opposite direction now. From down the stairs, out the door. The longing to get away from here and never, ever come back.

"Go, then," he snapped, and he hit my hands out of the way again, taking my place this time. Three fingers broken, it felt like before it slowly started to heal.

I straightened them numbly, not minding the throb of pain.

He pushed her dead heart faster than I had.

"She's not dead," he growled. "She's going to be fine."

I wasn't sure he was talking to me anymore.

Turning away, leaving him with his dead, I walked slowly to the door. So slowly. I couldn't make my feet move faster.

This was it, then. The ocean of pain. The other shore so far away across the boiling water that I couldn't imagine it, much less see it.

I felt empty again, lost. _This is what it felt like when the sire-bond is broken._ Saving Bonnie had been my fight since I returned to the land of the living. And she wouldn't be saved. She'd willingly sacrificed herself to be torn apart by that monster, and so the fight was lost. It was all over.

I shuddered at the sound coming from behind me as I plodded down the stairs - the sound of the little witch's dead heart being forced to thud.

I wanted to somehow pour bleach inside my head and let it fry my brain. To burn away the images left from Bonnie's final minutes. I'd take the brain damage if I could get rid of that - the screaming, the bleeding, the unbearable crunching and snapping as the newborn monster tore through her from the inside out…

I wanted to sprint away, to take the stairs ten at a time and race out the door, but my feet were heavy as iron and my body was more tired than it had ever been before. I shuffled down the stairs like a crippled old man that I really was.

I rested at the bottom step, gathering my strength to get out the door.

Elena was on the clean end of the white sofa, her back to me, cooing and murmuring to the blanket-wrapped thing in her arms. She must have heard me pause, but she ignored me, caught up in her moment of stolen motherhood. Maybe she would be happy now. Elena had what she wanted, and Bonnie would never come to take the creature from her. I wondered if that's what Katherine's doppelganger had been hoping for all along.

She held something dark in her hands, and there was a greedy sucking sound coming from the tiny murderer she held.

The scent of blood in the air. Human blood. Elena was feeding it. Of course it would want blood. What else would you feed the kind of monster that would brutally mutilate its own mother? It might as well have been drinking Bonnie's blood. Maybe it was.

My strength came back to me as I listened to the sound of the little executioner feeding.

Strength and hate and heat - red heat washing through my head, burning but erasing nothing. The images in my head were fuel, building up the inferno but refusing to be consumed. I felt the tremors rock me from head to toe, and I did not try to stop them.

Elena was totally absorbed in the creature, paying no attention to me at all. She wouldn't be quick enough to stop me, distracted as she was.

Elijah had been right. The thing was an aberration - its existence went against nature. A black, soulless demon. Something that had no right to be.

Something that had to be destroyed.

It seemed like the pull had not been leading to the door after all. I could feel it now, encouraging me, tugging me forward. Pushing me to finish this, to cleanse the world of this abomination.

Elena would try to kill me when the creature was dead, and I would fight back. I wasn't sure if I would have time to finish her before the others came to help. Maybe, maybe not. I didn't much care either way.

I didn't care if my own family, either set, avenged me or called the Salvatore's justice fair. None of that mattered. All I cared about was my own justice. My revenge. The thing that had killed Bonnie would not live another minute longer.

If Bonnie survived, she would have hated me for this. She would have wanted to kill me personally.

But I didn't care. She didn't care what she had done to me - letting herself be slaughtered like an animal. Why should I take her feelings into account?

Oh how I wish I was Jeremy, who didn't create a bond with the witch when they came back from the dead.

And then there was Damon. He must be too busy now - too far gone in his insane denial, trying to reanimate a corpse - to listen to my plans.

So I wouldn't get the chance to keep my promise to him, unless - and it was not a wager I'd put money on - I managed to win the fight against Elena, Caroline, and maybe my dear brother Nick three on one. But even if I did win, I didn't think I had it in me to kill Damon.

Because I didn't have enough compassion for that. Why should I let him get away from what he'd done? Wouldn't it be more fair - more satisfying - to let him live with nothing, nothing at all?

It made me almost smile, as filled with hate as I was, to imagine it. No Bonnie. No killer spawn. And also missing as many members of his family as I was able to take down. Of course, he could probably put those back together, since i wouldn't be around to burn them. Unlike Bonnie, who would never be whole again.

I wondered if the creature could be put back together. I doubted it. It was part Bonnie, too - so it must have inherited some of her witchy powers and vulnerability. I could hear that in the tiny, thrumming beat of its heart.

Its heart was beating. Hers wasn't.

Only a second had passed as I made these easy decisions.

The trembling was getting tighter and faster. I coiled myself, preparing to spring at vampire Elena and rip the murderous thing from her arms with my teeth.

Elena cooed at the creature again, setting the empty metal bottle-thing aside and lifting the creature into the air to nuzzle her face against its cheek.

Perfect. The new position was perfect for my strike. I leaned forward and felt the heat begin to change me while the pull toward the killer grew - it was stronger than I'd ever felt it before, so strong it reminded me of Silas, like it would crush me if I didn't obey.

This time I _wanted_ to obey.

The murderer stared past Elena's shoulder at me, its gaze more focused than any newborn creature's gaze should be.

Bright green eyes, the color of fresh grass in the spring - the exact same color that Bonnie's had been.

My shaking jerked to a stop; heat flooded through me, stronger than before, but it was a new kind of heat - not a burning.

It was a glowing.

Everything inside me came undone as I stared at the tiny porcelain face of the half-vampire, half-witch baby. All the lines that held me to my life were sliced apart in swift cuts, like clipping the strings to a bunch of balloons. Everything that made me who I was - my love for the dead girl upstairs, my love for my mother, my loyalty to my family, the love for my other siblings, my hatred for my enemies, my home, my name, my _self_ - disconnected from me in that second - _snip, snip, snip_ - and floated up into space.

I was not left drifting. A new string held me where I was.

Not one string, but a million. Not strings, but steel cables. A million steel cables all tying me to one thing - to the very center of the universe.

I could see that now - how the universe swirled around this one point. I'd never seen the symmetry of the universe before, but now it was plain.

The gravity of the earth no longer tied me to the place where I stood.

It was the baby girl in Elena Gilbert's vampire arms that held me here now.

Rosalynn.

From upstairs, there was a new sound. The only sound that could touch me in this endless instant. A frantic pounding, a racing beat...

A changing heart.


	5. Bonnie Salvatore

******A/N: Breaking Dawn (Birth scene with a TVD/BAMON)**

**(Bonnie Salvatore's POV)**

The pain was bewildering.

Exactly that - I was bewildered. I couldn't understand, couldn't make sense of what was happening.

My body tried to reject the pain, and I was sucked again and again into a blackness that cut out whole seconds or maybe even minutes of the agony, making it that much harder to keep up with reality.

I tried to separate them.

Non-reality was black, and it didn't hurt so much.

Reality was red, and it felt like I was being sawed in half, hit by a bus, punched by a prize fighter, trampled by bulls, and submerged in acid, all at the same time.

Reality was feeling my body and magic twist and flip when I couldn't possibly move because of the pain.

Reality was knowing there was something so much more important than all this torture, and not being able to remember what it was.

Reality had come on so fast.

One moment, everything was as it should have been. Surrounded by people I loved. Smiles. Somehow, unlikely as it was, it seemed like I was about to get everything I'd been fighting for.

And then one tiny, inconsequential thing had gone wrong.

I'd watched as my cup tilted, dark blood spilling out and staining the perfect white, and I'd lurched toward the accident reflexively. I'd seen the other, faster hands, but my body had continued to reach, to stretch...

Inside me, something had yanked the opposite direction.

Ripping. Breaking. Agony.

The darkness, worse than Expression had taken over, and then washed away to a wave of torture. I couldn't breathe - I had drowned once before, and this was different; it was too hot in my throat.

Pieces of me shattering, snapping, slicing apart...

More blackness.

Voices, this time, shouting, as the pain came back.

'The placenta must have detached!"

Something sharper than knives ripped through me - the words, making sense in spite of the other tortures. _Detached placenta_ - I knew what that meant. It meant that my baby was dying inside me.

"Get him out!" I screamed to Damon. Why hadn't he done it yet? "He can't breathe! Do it now!"

"The morphine - "

He wanted to wait, to give me painkillers, while our baby was dying?!

"No! Now - ," I choked, unable to finish.

Black spots covered the light in the room as a cold point of new pain stabbed icily into my stomach. It felt wrong - I struggled automatically to protect my womb, my baby, my little Damon Kol, but I was weak. My lungs ached, oxygen burned away.

The pain faded away again, though I clung to it now. My baby, my baby, dying...

How long had passed? Seconds or minutes? The pain was gone. Numb. I couldn't feel. I still couldn't see, either, but I could hear. There was air in my lungs again, scraping in rough bubbles up and down my throat.

"You stay with _me_ now, Bonnie! Do you hear me? Stay! You're not leaving me. Keep your heart beating!"

Kol? Kol, still here, still trying to save me, even if maybe it was the bond that they created accidently, making him love and care for me but I didn't care, our relationship has changed for the better. He was my best friend now with or without the bond we shared.

_Of course_, I wanted to tell him. Of course I would keep my heart beating. Hadn't I promised them both?

I tried to feel my heart, to find it, but I was so lost inside my own body. I couldn't feel the things I should, and nothing felt in the right place. I blinked and I found my eyes. I could see the light. Not what I was looking for, but better than nothing.

As my eyes struggled to adjust, Damon whispered, " Rosalynn."

Rosalynn?

Not the pale mixture of Damon and her, our perfect interracial son of my imagination? I felt a moment of shock. And then a flood of warmth.

Rosalynn.

I willed my lips to move, willed the bubbles of air to turn into whispers on my tongue. I forced my numb hands to reach.

"Let me... Give her to me."

The light danced, shattering off Damon's pale hands tingling with red, with the blood that covered his skin. Something small and struggling, dripping with blood. He touched the warm body to my weak arms, almost like I was holding her. Her wet skin was hot - as hot as Kol's, one of the side of effects of returning from the dead.

My eyes focused; suddenly everything was absolutely clear.

Rosalynn did not cry, but she breathed in quick, startled pants. Her eyes were open, her expression so shocked it was almost funny. The little, perfectly heart shaped head was covered in a thick layer of matted, bloody dark curls. Her irises were a familiar - but astonishing – bright emerald. Under the blood, her skin looked pale, a beautiful mix of white and black, a creamy beige. All besides her cheeks, which flamed with color.

Her tiny face was so absolutely perfect that it stunned me. She was even more beautiful than her father. Unbelievable. Impossible.

"Rosalynn," I whispered. "So... beautiful."

The impossible face suddenly smiled - a wide, deliberate smile. Behind the shell-pink lips was a full complement of snowy milk teeth.

She leaned her head down, against my chest, burrowing against the warmth. Her skin was warm and silky, but it didn't give the way mine did.

Then there was pain again - just one warm slash of it. I gasped.

And she was gone. My heart shape-faced baby was nowhere. I couldn't see or feel her.

No! I wanted to shout. _Give her back to me!_

But the weakness was too much. My arms felt like empty rubber hoses for a moment, and then they felt like nothing at all. I couldn't feel them. I couldn't feel _me_.

The blackness rushed over my eyes more solidly than before. Like a thick blindfold, firm and fast. Covering not just my eyes but also myself with a crushing weight. It was exhausting to push against it. I knew it would be so much easier to give in. To let the blackness push me down, down, down to a place where there was no pain and no weariness and no worry and no fear.

If it had only been for myself, I wouldn't have been able to struggle very long. I was only a teenage human witch, with no strength to magically try somehow to heal myself. I'd been trying to keep up with the supernatural for too long, like Kol had said.

But this wasn't just about me.

If I did the easy thing now, let the black nothingness erase me, I would hurt them.

Damon. Damon. My life and his were twisted into a single strand. Cut one, and you cut both. If he were gone, I would not be able to live through that. If I were gone, he wouldn't live through it, either. And a world without Damon seemed completely pointless now. Damon _had_ to exist.

Kol - who'd said goodbye to me over and over but kept coming back when I needed him. Kol, who I'd wounded so many times it was criminal. Would I hurt him again, the worst way yet? He'd stayed for me, despite everything. Now all he asked was that I stay for him.

But it was so dark here that I couldn't see either of their faces. Nothing seemed real. That made it hard not to give up.

I kept pushing against the black, though, almost a reflex. I wasn't trying to lift it. I was just resisting. Not allowing it to crush me completely. I wasn't Atlas, the Titan who held up the celestial sphere on his shoulders, and the black felt as heavy as a planet; I couldn't shoulder it. All I could do was not be entirely obliterated.

It was sort of the pattern to my life - I'd never been a strong enough Bennett witch to deal with the things from the supernatural world, to attack the enemies or outrun them. To avoid the pain. Always a human, a witch and weak, the only thing I'd ever been able to do was keep going. Endure, try to save my love ones from danger and survive.

It had been enough up to this point. It would have to be enough today. I would endure this until help came.

I knew Damon would be doing everything he could. He would not give up. Neither would I.

I held the blackness of nonexistence at bay by inches.

It wasn't enough, though - that determination. As the time ground on and on and the darkness gained by tiny eighths and sixteenths of my inches, I needed something more to draw strength from.

I couldn't pull even Damon's face into view. Not Kol's, not Caroline's or Elena's or Gram's or Dad's or Stefan's or Jeremy's or Matt's or Klaus'... Nothing. It terrified me, and I wondered if it was too late.

I felt myself slipping - there was nothing to hold on to.

_No! _I had to survive this. Damon was depending on me. Kol. Dad Caroline Elena Stefan Matt Jeremy Klaus...

Rosalynn.

And then, though I still couldn't see anything, suddenly I could _feel_ something. Like phantom limbs, I imagined I could feel my arms again. And in them, something small and hard and very, very warm.

My baby. My little nudger.

I had done it. Against the odds, I _had_ been strong enough to survive Rosalynn, to hold on to her until she was strong enough to live without me.

That spot of heat in my phantom arms felt so real. I clutched it closer. It was exactly where my heart should be. Holding tight the warm memory of my daughter, I knew that I would be able to fight the darkness as long as I needed to.

The warmth beside my heart got more and more real, warmer and warmer. Hotter. The heat was so real it was hard to believe that I was imagining it.

Hotter.

Uncomfortable now. Too hot. Much, much too hot.

Like grabbing the wrong end of a curling iron - my automatic response was to drop the scorching thing in my arms. But there was nothing in my arms. My arms were not curled to my chest. My arms were dead things lying somewhere at my side. The heat was inside me.

The burning grew - rose and peaked and rose again until it surpassed anything I'd ever felt.

I felt the pulse behind the fire raging now in my chest and realized that I'd found my heart again, just in time to wish I never had. To wish that I'd embraced the blackness while I'd still had the chance. I wanted to raise my arms and claw my chest open and rip the heart from it - anything to get rid of this torture. But I couldn't feel my arms, couldn't move one vanished finger.

Silas, snapping my leg under his foot. That was nothing. That was a soft place to rest on a feather bed. I'd take that now, a hundred times. A hundred snaps. I'd take it and be grateful.

The baby, kicking my ribs apart, breaking her way through me piece by piece. That was nothing. That was floating in a pool of cool water. I'd take it a thousand times. Take it and be grateful.

The fire blazed hotter and I wanted to scream. To beg for someone to kill me now, before I lived one more second in this pain. But I couldn't move my lips. The weight was still there, pressing on me.

I realized it wasn't the darkness holding me down; it was my body. So heavy. Burying me in the flames that were chewing their way out from my heart now, spreading with impossible pain through my shoulders and stomach, scalding their way up my throat, licking at my face.

Why couldn't I move? Why couldn't I scream? This wasn't part of the stories.

My mind was unbearably clear - sharpened by the fierce pain - and I saw the answer almost as soon as I could form the questions.

The morphine.

It seemed like a million deaths ago that we'd discussed it - Damon, Stefan, and I. Damon and Stefan had hoped that enough painkillers would help fight the pain of Klaus' blood. Stefan had tried with Klaus, but the hybrid blood had burned ahead of the medicine, sealing his veins. There hadn't been time for it to spread.

I'd kept my face smooth and nodded and thanked my rarely lucky stars that Damon could not read my mind.

Because I'd had morphine and Klaus' blood together in my system before, and I knew the truth. I knew the numbness of the medicine was completely irrelevant while the blood seared through my veins. But there'd been no way I was going to mention that fact. Nothing that would make him more unwilling to change me.

I hadn't guessed that the morphine would have this effect - that it would pin me down and gag me. Hold me paralyzed while I burned.

I knew all the stories. I knew that Stefan had kept quiet enough to avoid discovery while he burned. I knew that, according to Elena, it did no good to scream. And I'd hoped that maybe I could be like Stefan. That I would believe Elena's words and keep my mouth shut. Because I knew that every scream that escaped my lips would torment Damon.

Now it seemed like a hideous joke that i was getting my wish fulfilled.

If I couldn't scream, _how could I tell them to kill me?_

All I wanted was to die. To never have been born. The whole of my existence did not outweigh this pain. Wasn't worth living through it for one more heartbeat.

Let me die, let me die, let me die.

And, for a never-ending space, that was all there was. Just the fiery torture, and my soundless shrieks, pleading for death to come. Nothing else, not even time. So that made it infinite, with no beginning and no end. One infinite moment of pain.

The only change came when suddenly, impossibly, my pain was doubled. The lower half of my body, deadened since before the morphine, was suddenly on fire, too. Some broken connection had been healed - knitted together by the scorching fingers of the flame.

The endless burn raged on.

It could have been seconds or days, weeks or years, but, eventually, time came to mean something again.

Three things happened together, grew from each other so that I didn't know which came first: time restarted, the morphine's weight faded, and I got stronger, stronger then when Expression tried to consume me and take over my body.

I could feel the control of my body come back to me in increments, and those increments were my first markers of the time passing. I knew it when I was able to twitch my toes and twist my fingers into fists. I knew it, but I did not act on it.

Though the fire did not decrease one tiny degree - in fact, I began to develop a new capacity for experiencing it, a new sensitivity to appreciate, separately, each blistering tongue of flame that licked through my magical veins - I discovered that I could think around it.

I could remember _why_ I shouldn't scream. I could remember the reason why I'd committed to enduring this unendurable agony. I could remember that, though it felt impossible now, there was something that might be worth the torture.

This happened just in time for me to hold on when the weights left my body. To anyone watching me, there would be no change. But for me, as I struggled to keep the screams and thrashing locked up inside my body, where they couldn't hurt anyone else, it felt like I'd gone from being tied to the stake as I burned, to _gripping_ that stake to hold myself in the fire.

I had just enough strength to lie there unmoving while I was charred alive.

My hearing got clearer and clearer, and I could count the frantic, pounding beats of my heart to mark the time.

I could count the shallow breaths that gasped through my teeth.

I could count the low, even breaths that came from somewhere close beside me. These moved slowest, so I concentrated on them. They meant the most time passing. More even than a clock's pendulum, those breaths pulled me through the burning seconds toward the end.

I continued to get stronger, my thoughts clearer. When new noises came, I could listen.

There were light footsteps, the whisper of air stirred by an opening door. The footsteps got closer, and I felt pressure against the inside of my wrist. I couldn't feel the coolness of the fingers. The fire blistered away every memory of cool.

"Still no change?"

"None."

The lightest pressure, breath against my scorched skin.

"There's no scent of the morphine left."

"I know."

"Bonnie? Can you hear me?"

I knew, beyond all doubt, that if I unlocked my teeth I would lose it - I would shriek and screech and writhe and thrash. If I opened my eyes, if I so much as twitched a finger - any change at all would be the end of my control.

"Bonnie? Bonnie, my little witch, love? Can you open your eyes? Can you squeeze my hand?"

Pressure on my fingers. It was harder not to answer this voice, but I stayed paralyzed. I knew that the pain in his voice now was nothing compared to what it _could_ be. Right now he only feared that I was suffering.

"Maybe... Stefan, maybe I was too_ late_." His voice was muffled; it broke on the word late.

My resolve wavered for a second.

"Listen to her heart, Damon. It's stronger than even Klaus' was. I've never heard anything so _vital_. Shell be perfect."

Yes, I was right to keep quiet. Stefan would reassure him. He didn't need to suffer with me.

"And her - her spine?"

"Her injuries weren't so much worse than Elena's. The blood will heal her as it did Elena if not better because of Klaus' blood in her system."

"But she's so still. I _must_ have done something wrong."

"Or something right, Damon. Brother, you did everything I could have and more. I'm not sure I would have had the persistence, the faith it took to save her. Stop berating yourself. Bonnie is going to be fine."

A broken whisper. "She must be in agony."

"We don't know that. She had so much morphine in her system. We don't know the effect that will have on her experience."

Faint pressure inside the crease of my elbow. Another whisper. "Bonnie, I love you. Bonnie, I'm sorry."

I wanted so much to answer him, but I wouldn't make his pain worse. Not while I had the strength to hold myself still.

Through all this, the racking fire went right on burning me. But there was so much space in my head now. Room to ponder their conversation, room to remember what had happened, room to look ahead to the future, with still endless room left over to suffer in.

Also room to worry.

Where was my baby? Why wasn't she here? Why weren't they talking about her?

"No, I'm staying right here," Damon whispered, answering an unspoken thought. "They'll sort it out."

"An interesting situation," Stefan responded. "And I'd thought I'd seen just about everything."

"I'll deal with it later. _We'll_ deal with it." Something pressed softly to my blistering palm.

"I'm sure, between the five of us, we can keep it from turning into bloodshed."

Damon sighed. "I don't know which side to take. I'd love to flog them both. Well, later."

"I wonder what Bonnie will think - whose side she'll take," Stefan mused.

One low, strained chuckle. "I'm sure she'll surprise me. She always does."

Stefan's footsteps faded away again, and I was frustrated that there was no further explanation. Were they talking so mysteriously just to annoy me?

I went back to counting Damon's breaths to mark the time.

Ten thousand, nine hundred forty-three breaths later, a different set of footsteps whispered into the room. Lighter. More... rhythmic.

Strange that I could distinguish the minute differences between footsteps that I'd never been able to hear at all before today.

"How much longer?" Damon asked.

"It won't be long now," Caroline told him. "See how clear she's becoming? I can see her so much better." She sighed.

"Still feeling a little bitter?"

"Yes, thanks so much for bringing it up," she grumbled. "You would be mortified, too, if you realized that you were handcuffed by your own nature. I see vampires best, because I am one; I see humans okay, because I was one. But I can't see these odd half-breeds at all because they're nothing I've experienced. Bah! Why do you think I fell in love with Klaus!"

"Focus, Barbie."

"Right. Bonnie's almost too easy to see now."

There was a long moment of silence, and then Damon sighed. It was a new sound, happier.

"She's really going to be fine," he breathed.

"Of course she is."

"You weren't so sanguine two days ago."

"I couldn't see right two days ago. But now that she's free of all the blind spots, it's a piece of cake."

"Could you concentrate for me? On the clock - give me an estimate."

Caroline sighed. "So impatient. Fine. Give me a sec - "

Quiet breathing.

"Thank you, Caroline." His voice was brighter.

_How long_? Couldn't they at least say it aloud for me? Was that too much to ask? How many more seconds would I burn? Ten thousand? Twenty? Another day - eighty-six thousand, four hundred? More than that?

"She's going to be dazzling."

Damon growled quietly. "She always has been."

Caroline snorted. "You know what I mean._ Look_ at her."

Damon didn't answer, but Caroline's words gave me hope that maybe I didn't resemble the charcoal briquette I felt like. It seemed as if I _must_ be just a pile of charred bones by now. Every cell in my body had been razed to ash.

I heard Caroline breeze out of the room. I heard the swish of the fabric she moved, rubbing against itself. I heard the quiet buzz of the light hanging from the ceiling. I heard the faint wind brushing against the outside of the house. I could hear _everything_.

Downstairs, someone was watching the basketball playoffs. The Heats were winning by two runs over Spurs.

"_It's my turn_" I heard Elena snap at someone, and there was a low snarl in response.

"Hey, now," Klaus cautioned.

Someone hissed.

I listened for more, but there was nothing but the game. Basketball was not interesting enough to distract me from the pain, so I listened to Damon's breathing again, counting the seconds.

Twenty-one thousand, nine hundred seventeen and a half seconds later, the pain changed.

On the good-news side of things, it started to fade from my fingertips and toes. Fading _slowly_, but at least it was doing something new. This had to be it. The pain was on its way out...

And then the bad news. The fire in my throat wasn't the same as before. I wasn't only on fire, but I was now parched, too. Dry as bone. So thirsty. Burning fire, and burning thirst...

Also bad news: The fire inside my heart got hotter.

How was that _possible_?

My heartbeat, already too fast, picked up - the fire drove its rhythm to a new frantic pace.

"Stefan," Damon called. His voice was low but clear. I knew that Stefan would hear it, if he were in or near the house.

The fire retreated from my palms, leaving them blissfully pain-free and cool. But it retreated to my heart, which blazed hot as the sun and beat at a furious new speed.

Stefan entered the room, Caroline at his side. Their footsteps were so distinct, I could even tell that Stefan was on the right, and a foot ahead of Caroline.

"Listen," Damon told them.

The loudest sound in the room was my frenzied heart, pounding to the rhythm of the fire.

"Ah," Stefan said. "It's almost over."

My relief at his words was overshadowed by the excruciating pain in my heart.

My wrists were free, though, and my ankles. The fire was totally extinguished there.

"Soon," Caroline agreed eagerly. "I'll get the others. Should I have Elena... ?"

"Yes - keep the baby away."

What? No. No! What did he mean, keep my baby away? What was he thinking?

My fingers twitched - the irritation breaking through my perfect facade. The room went silent besides the jack-hammering of my heart as they all stopped breathing for a second in response.

A hand squeezed my wayward fingers. "Bonnie? Bonnie, love?"

Could I answer him without screaming? I considered that for a moment, and then the fire ripped hotter still through my chest, draining in from my elbows and knees. Better not to chance it.

'Til bring them right up," Caroline said, an urgent edge to her tone, and I heard the swish of wind as she darted away.

And then - _oh!_

My heart took off, beating like helicopter blades, the sound almost a single sustained note; it felt like it would grind through my ribs. The fire flared up in the center of my chest, sucking the last remnants of the flames from the rest of my body to fuel the most scorching blaze yet. The pain was enough to stun me, to break through my iron grip on the stake. My back arched, bowed as if the fire was dragging me upward by my heart.

I allowed no other piece of my body to break rank as my torso slumped back to the table.

It became a battle inside me - my sprinting heart racing against the attacking fire. Both were losing. The fire was doomed, having consumed everything that was combustible; my heart galloped toward its last beat.

The fire constricted, concentrating inside that one remaining human organ with a final, unbearable surge. The surge was answered by a deep, hollow-sounding thud. My heart stuttered twice, and then thudded quietly again just once more.

There was no sound. No breathing. Not even mine.

For a moment, the absence of pain was all I could comprehend.

And then I opened my eyes and gazed above me in wonder.


End file.
